


To George: PS, I loved you

by manciissuperior



Series: To George; Love, Clay [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Inspired by Music, M/M, Metaphors, Post-Break Up, Stars, a lot of metaphors again, based on music!, i literally speedran this, no beta we die like men, no fluff lol, sad gay blockmen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manciissuperior/pseuds/manciissuperior
Summary: He comes back and Clay, Clay finally realizes he is more than that - more than what he wanted to be for Him.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: To George; Love, Clay [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043229
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	To George: PS, I loved you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smoluwuqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smoluwuqueen/gifts).



> i wrote the whole thing in one sitting with one small break, i dont feel my brain but i had to post this 
> 
> . .  
> ‿>
> 
> also, for the amazing noeo

How much time has passed? Maybe two months? Three? Maybe four? Clay didn't know — he had no idea, and he didn't care. He didn't care, because it wasn't better, it wouldn't have been better if he knew. If then, he could have - it could have been better. May. And it's not like that - he's not well yet.  
At first — at first, even after he knew it was over — he believed. He believed George wasn't listening to him. To call him anyway, write to him - look for him. He missed him. He didn't take advantage of him - and yet, he did. He didn't say goodbye — and Clay, oh Clay, regretted so much because he did — he still trusted. He trusted that the other, like the veil of clouds, had not just disappeared, and there was only a lack of delusion. And it wasn't - because He, he was no more.  
Nights and days, spring and autumn, days and days in a row - and He, he never came back. He never turned back, never searched, never wrote — he seemed to have been swallowed by the dark salt of the ocean, and Clay, shattered like porcelain. Porcelain, which was forcefully cut to the floor with rage, like porcelain, which was not paid enough attention to. Like a torn page from a picture book - ironed on fabric as a poster and washed over with cold, icy water.  
He tried to take care, but he couldn't help himself anymore. He couldn't because he became a joke as much as he could laugh at himself — in agony, with a bitter taste in his mouth, his shoulders shaking with crying.  
He didn't understand - for a very long time, he didn't understand what had ruined him. Why couldn't he, be the most important moon, whom he looks up to in the evening and smiles at - what he did wrong. What was of what little was given - what was of what was too much. Thousands of questions zigzagged through his mind from minute to minute and didn’t stop. Thousands of thoughts trembled like goosebumps on the rails of his spine, and up to his neck from where he collided with his salty tears, constantly. And, if not with them, he ended up falling through his mouth and throat where he didn’t want to - where everything stood cramped, where everything swirled like a storm.   
And this ship, oh, how many times it ran aground on him, inside and outside him. Everything merged, either from the wax from different candles or as the debris of two colliding planets became one another — from it into a gray mass that melted by its own heat.  
He didn't have a name - and he never will, it was taken away from him. They took his name, his axis, his sun, his stars - everything. He became a soulless man, rowing like an empty paper box in a sea of his emotions, on which from he had never seen the other side of the mainland.

* * *

  
"Excuse me" he felt a hand touch his shoulder, from which his backpack had just not fallen. He was late, no one was there except him — he thought he was hallucinating. He didn’t deal with it - he didn’t want to deal with it. He was sure he imagined and only his mind played with him until once again, they caught the material of his dress snug over his shoulders. He turned his head comatically so that he could look back, his mouth opened, and he closed immediately. There was a shock to his body that he could not describe in words, not even feelings.  
"Hi." Clay nodded as his words were gone — for a while. "Long time no see."  
"You were not looking for me. So I did the same."  
"I know and - fuck, I'm really, really very sorry."  
"George, your pity doesn’t solve the problem. You can walk your mouth saying that you are sorry if you are really just lying, ”he spat. "Would you let me go?"  
"Clay -"  
“Clay this, Clay that - I have stuff to do. If you want something from me so much - look for another time ”and he disappeared. And George stood there, alone, in the middle of the deserted hallway.

  
Oh, Oh how much he would have lied if he had said — the other did not warm his heart, because Oh, oh how much He did. He was angry — at himself, Him, everyone — but he could not say no. There was no one to say no to - no one to beg for his no. He thought it was over, it would be over and it was over - and yet not. Still, he couldn't get over it — no matter how slowly he did it. He tried, tried, and wanted to try, but he couldn't - because He had to come back at that moment and completely confuse him with that. It was zero again, it was zero again - it was spinning again. The world revolved with it, the sky revolved with it - the wind revolved with it, which picked it up and cut it to the ground. He didn't know what to say, what to think, what to feel — he didn't know who he was, who he was, and who he would be. He did not know. He could not.

* * *

"Clay -"  
“Not now - look for another time. We'll talk about it later."

* * *

"H-" and the call ended. George? He sincerely cared about what he felt and was frustrated with how the other would treat him, even if he understood it. He didn't want to let go — because he longed for what he had received from him. He longed for what others had never given him, and never like Him.

* * *

  
"How many more times do we have to run into each other, how many more times do I have to call you to speak at least more than two words?"  
Clay sighed. “Tomorrow, at six, usual place - if I don’t see you there in time, you’ll never see me again. And I will not look for you either. ”

They talked - they talked, but not much. A little, but more than zero. They were zeros, are zeros, and will be zeros — but the number of their words is not parallel to them. The sky was cloudy, too — as was the tension between the two of them, but that didn’t stop them from watching it.  
"Could I have a question for you Clay?"  
"You've apologized before, haven't you?" he raised an eyebrow. "Sure."  
"Why - why have you changed so much?"  
"Do you want me to lie or be completely honest with you?" George nodded curiously at the second sound. “You know, I waited a long time. Too long, ”he sighed. “First - for a very long time I thought you were going to come back to me. I thought I was just imagining that I was alone and yet you were there. I thought one day you would knock and we could be what we were again, you know? The two bright stars in the distance. But I was wrong. You never came - and I was waiting for you. George, fuck, it's been months, and now that you suddenly sneak into my life again, do you expect me to be like I used to be? How do I forgive you as soon as you open those beautiful little lips? ”  
"I-"   
"You this, you that - no. I loved you, I loved you more than love itself. And you and you didn't do shit. You didn't care, you didn't love me back - you never loved me, for God's sake. But by the time I finally put myself together a little bit, you decide to come back. Then don’t even make me laugh ”he mocked his words“ you want me back. What's missing? Is it that someone sees more of you than who you are? How does one consider his Sun while less than a dwarf planet? I’m not a game George - and I never was. ”  
He watched him in the other silence, sighing — not once, not twice, not even three times. Everything he wanted to say got stuck in his throat as if he wanted to drown in them. He didn't know what to say - he might not have wanted to.   
“I waited for a long time, George. I waited for too long. ”  
And Clay left, leaving Him, — him alone, on the burgundy plaid, where they once lost into each other. Instead, he was left in the dark - and oh, how fucking sorry he was. 

* * *

Clay saw this day as a mirage — merging before his eyes with everything he felt, everything he remembered. And he didn't mind, the confusion became comfortable for him, and he already felt at home in it. It hurt - but what was there for him to regret? He didn't do anything, he didn't do anything he should have regretted. His love, his admiration, fell from him — first like a velvet cloak embraced by the wind. And he didn't mind. He began to live, he began to be more than dark — he began to be more than zero.

Clay became his own star — he found his own axis and spun around it for as long as he could. He was spinning around because he knew he had to do it. He revolved around it, because at last, he finally became who he was, and not who he wanted to be for Him.  
**Clay finally came home.**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading !! i end my series with this part and i had a looot of fun writing it !! i hope you enjoyed it and have an amazing day!


End file.
